"He went walking and leaping and praising God
Walking and leaping and praising God..."
These words were running through my head as we stood in a small room hidden in the bowels of the hospital. We were lead there through many twistings and turnings after those other words. Life crashing, mind numbing, heart twisting, gut turning words: dead on arrival. Later I would second guess myself and wonder. And shoulda, woulda, coulda. Wonder if I should have commanded him "In the Name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!". Would he have gotten up and walked? Could I have done that? I wonder.
Sometime in August I had a dream. He was there on large plywood box in the yard, cold and still. My sisters and I were gathered all around. Someone cried "Get up!" And he did. He came leaping down from there with a big missing teeth smile on his face. We were laughing and crying, and all talking at once. He was holding my hand. Then he looked up at me. His face was sad and his eyes filled with tears.
"But I don't want to stay. I want to go back"
"It's OK" I said "You can go."
I woke up and he was gone. I wanted so much to keep him but I had to let him go.
"For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord."
1 Thessalonians 4:16-17
Waiting for the trumpet - Pat